To the Blue Sky
by Thorn In Your Side
Summary: You're just grasping what grief is. You've yet to find out what pain feels like. Tsunade centric, oneshot.


**To the Blue Sky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, or its theme. **

**A/N: Uh. Vocab. Ero-baka is perverted idiot. Sensei is teacher. Otouto is little brother. Godaime is the fifth. Tu madre is you getting owned in Spanish. **

**Summary: You've just begun to grasp what grief is, you're finding out what pain feels like. **

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

I have a lot to say.

I have a lot I can talk to you about. If you let me, I will never stop. Because talking releases sadness from the soul. The air absorbs your sadness, the words that carry it. It's a beautiful way to lighten the load on your shoulders.

But it's for civilians to do.

In the shinobi world, its not just walls that have ears. The wind itself can be your worst enemy. It can take your secrets away and place them in the ears of the opposition. And then, you're lost.

To a ninja, it's the sky that takes in their sadness. When a civilian looks up at the blue canvas of the sky, he sees boundless freedom and beauty. When a ninja looks up at that same sky, she sees the grief of a thousand of her fellow shinobi etched there among the clouds. She sees a ceiling of pain. She sees her tears reflected back at her.

Ninjas cannot share their sorrows with anyone. A civilian can never understand our agony, just as a cat cannot understand the agony of a flightless hawk. And our teammates—if they're alive—have their own worries. How can you help a friend when you can't help yourself? We look at each other with muted, mutual understanding. We nod. We drink. We suffer.

But the sky offers an outlet.

There is a special type of paper used by us. A special paper with special ink. Both ink and paper are highly flammable: when you're done writing, you just have to place in sunshine to watch your words go up in smoke. Tendrils of darkness drift to the sky to add our ache to the ones already there.

I have had to write letters to the sky more times than I ever hoped I would have to. The first time, when my brother died. My sweet little brother, so determined to become Hokage.

_To the blue sky, _I began. And I stared at that piece of paper for well over an hour. What could I write? What words could possibly capture my brother's pure grin, his irascible personality, his sunroughed cheeks?

The words I just used. Pure. Irascible. My otouto. I didn't have to show off my vocabulary. I just had to define how I was feeling. Sometimes the words were simple, sometimes I sifted through the dictionary trying to find out what I was trying to say.

But eventually, I wrote it. I burnt it. And, surprisingly, I _**did **_feel better.

And then Dan died.

_To the blue sky, _I wrote, _I cannot say it's nice to write to you again. _But what choice did I have? I could either live with the bursting pain in my heart, or I could get it out in one distasteful sitting. Dan was, in a way, easier to write. I'd grown some, it was easier to identify my feelings for him. But in many other ways, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

Until Orochimaru left.

_To the blue sky, _

_Stop taking people away from me. I don't know how much you enjoy my company, but I'm sorry to say that I don't enjoy yours at all. _

Why? Why Orochimaru?

_Jiraiya won't smile anymore. At least the last two times, I was the only one hurt. At least I had friends to help me through it. _

Now one of those friends was the one that'd hurt me, and the other was writing letters of his own. And our beloved teacher, Sarutobi-sensei, was busy being Sandaime, hiding his pain rather than offering it to the sky. Orochimaru had been his favorite student, to have him betray the village left a mark on sensei's heart like Jiraiya and I could never understand.

Years later, Jiraiya and I met him. And we _**fought. **_It burnt my hands to use jutsu against him, and when he left us, the torturous presence in our hearts was as bad as the first time. I was losing him all over again.

I wrote two letters. One to mourn Sarutobi-sensei's passing.

_To the blue sky. _

_I found a letter in Sarutobi-sensei's drawer. It's my drawer now, I suppose. Godaime-sama—that's what the villagers call me. Princess Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage. _

_I hate it. _

_But that letter—do you know what was in there? He asked you to not take anyone from us, so we wouldn't have to write to you anymore. He offered his own sadness—or would have. He didn't burn it, so you never got the message. _

My sensei couldn't do it. He couldn't give up what little scrap of happiness he had for us. But looking back, I realize—he had a lot more to lose. If he let the sky take his precious people, it would've taken everyone in the village.

The second letter was because Jiraiya and I had lost Orochimaru a second time.

_Blue sky, don't take anyone anymore. Please, please, turn your attention to someone else. _

I thought I wouldn't mind. I thought I'd rather see anyone else miserable aside from me.

I hadn't counted on Sakura.

Young Sakura, sweet Sakura, so much like me Sakura. Sakura full of dreams, Sakura full of hope, Sakura who couldn't grasp what grief was. The blue sky turned its attention to my protégée. Her teammate, the boy that had taken her heart hostage at a tender age, left.

The same way Orochimaru had.

It was like watching my story from the outside. I knew then how horrible it must've been for people to watch me and Jiraiya. The blond boy, the brat, Naruto was shattered. I saw Jiraiya in his heartbroken eyes. I'd never loved Orochimaru like Sakura had loved Sasuke, but I saw myself in her eyes. I showed her how to write a letter to the sky.

And then I wrote a letter of my own.

_To the blue sky._

_I take back what I said. Let me have the pain, so she can have the freedom. Don't ever let her have to write a letter again. Take everything from me. Take everyone. Just don't let the young ones feel what I felt—they're not ready. They never will be. _

Was that what Sarutobi-sense thought about us? Is that what every sensei thinks about their students? You can teach them all you know, but you can't stop wanting to hold on to them. In your mind, they will never be ready for the practical examinations.

The sky and I made a deal. Sakura didn't have to write another letter.

But I lost Jiraiya.

_To the blue sky._

_What is there to say? A deal's a deal. But damn, I miss him. My stupid, dummy, thick headed ero-baka. He'll never annoy me again…at least until someone's writing a letter about me, I guess. _

As long as the next generation doesn't have to write as many letters.

Or at least, if they do—at least they'll be like me. Writing because they made a deal with the sky for someone else's sake. Maybe when she's my age, Sakura will still have to write letters. But maybe she'll write them instead of her students.

It's not just a hope. It's all I've got.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**


End file.
